


1 P.M Fantasies Involving Your (Wish He Was Your Boyfriend) Friend Because Class Is Boring

by moodyme



Series: Hours [21]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: I didnt go to a real hs I dont know how they work sorry, M/M, POV Ronan Lynch, Pining Ronan Lynch, Pre-Relationship, Ronan has a cruuuush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-08-23 10:47:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20241589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moodyme/pseuds/moodyme
Summary: Ronan resigned himself to the joy of the next forty-five minutes, where he could ignore Mr. Stewart and watch Adam.





	1 P.M Fantasies Involving Your (Wish He Was Your Boyfriend) Friend Because Class Is Boring

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks, vexingcosmos over on tumblr, for this lovely prompt! I hope you like it!!!

* * *

Ronan Lynch strided into his 1 p.m class a full five minutes past the last bell, ignored the disapproving 'tsk' and pointed eyebrow raising of Mr. Stewart, and threw himself onto the desk behind Adam. The other boy mostly ignored him, too busy scribbling down notes in that abysmal chicken scratch he tried calling handwriting, but he had deigned to give Ronan a fleeting fist bump and head nod by way of greeting as he passed his desk.

The barely there touch had been enough to make his knuckles tingle and he cursed Gansey for making the gesture a part of their friend groups daily interactions. The teacher was droning on and on about the significance of the sinking of the Lusitania and Ronan resigned himself to the joy of spending the next forty five minutes, where he could ignore Mr. Stewart and watch Adam. Which. Was quickly becoming a favorite hobby. Which. Was less concerning than it perhaps should have been, but, well. Adam was nice to look at and interesting to watch and it was fine. Probably.

Ronan slouched further into his desk's chair and watched the way Adam's hair curled over his collar. He would need to have to cut soon, to avoid breaking the dress code. Watched, and wished he could sigh, at the way Adam twisted his neck back and forth, trying to relieve the tension there. Watched as Adam diligently listened to their asshole teacher wax moronic about the Great War, his hand pausing , hovering over his notebook, waiting to jot down more notes. Watched as Adam shot a disdaindul look at Tad Carruthers for asking some bullshit question about the Ottomen Empire.

Ronan thought back to an hour ago, during lunch, when he and Adam and Gansey had set sprawled in the grass, talking and going over Gansey's journey and eating. It had been great until, towards the end, Ronan had said something he didn't even remember. A biting comment about a teacher or anotjer studeny. Something mocking towards Gansey. He couldn't remember but he wished he could, because Adam had peered up at him through his pretty, pale, lashes and smiled.

The next moment, the bell signaling the end of their lunch period and the beginning of their next hour of class rang out over the courtyard. Ronan had hurriedly disappeared to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face until he got his blush under control. After, he stood glaring at his reflection, his hands gripping the sink. This blushing had been a new, detestable, delevopment and he vowed to reign it in before Adam clued in to what was happening. The glaring caused him to be late for class, and not, as he supposed the teacher thought, his delinquent tendencies.

The memory threatened to have another blush bloom across his cheeks. His reputatuon couldn't afford something so embarrassing, so he willed himself to focus, for once, on what the teacher was saying. He valiantly succeeded for all of five minutes before he caught Adam glancing towards the window, his elegant profile on full display.

Focusing on the teacher was impossible now. Besides, the swirl of hair at the crown Adam's was more interesting. As he gazed at the back of Adam's head, he let his mind wander, thinking about Adam. His voice, his accent that he was slowly, regrettably, learning to cover better and better. His freckles, which were new and a sign of the approaching freedom of summer, and were awesome and terrible and pretty.

God, being in class was fucking awesome sometimes, even if school sucked balls. Which. Nope. Not going to think about it.

He was startled out of his Adam centric reverie by the bell, and Adam turning in his seat, his mouth opening, ready to say something, before it snapped shut and he frowned. Was startled even more when Adam reached over and placed his hand (and Ronan cursed how quickly the class ended because he hadn't even gotten to the point in his fantasies where he could fantazise about the other boy's _hands_) over his forhead.

"Are you sick?" Adam asked, moving his hand from his forehead and pressing the back of his fingers to his cheek, "You're all red, and you feel warm."

"I- yo-" Ronan sputtered, brushing Adam's hand away, "fuck off!" 

Adam narrowed his eyes, scoffed, and muttered how Ronan better not be contagious before gathering his school supplies and standing. Ronan, who had not even remembered to bring his school bag this morning, followed after him, pretending to cough in his face the whole way out the door and down the hall.

He wondered if he could will himself sick, or if he could dream himself a cold. It would he a good excuse for being flushed faced all through world history. He wondered how long his dream cold would have to go on before he got his blushing around Adam under control. Hopefully before Adam himself cottoned on to what was really happening 

**Author's Note:**

> Is this good? No.  
Do I know how high schools work? No.  
Did I attend a small, private, university full of private school graduates and upper middle class yuppies and rich kids and honest to god (family members of) elebrities that I base all my takes-place-at-Aglionby fanfics on? Yes.


End file.
